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The Betrayal at Varda
+++Novomark, Varda, Subsector Cryptus, Sector Deus, Segmentum Obscurus+++ +++358.339.M41+++ The city was burning, Mara could see the orange glow in the distance beyond the rooftops. So much death and destruction had been wrought by those who had called themselves friends, leading the young woman and her family from their homestead outside the city gates, ushering them into the “safe zone”. Now she and a few hundred other rounded-up civilians were cornered in an open city square, all avenues of escape blocked off by ranks of Frateris Militiamen. Her beloved husband Jeth lay sprawled on the ground to her left, a sizzling hole in his forehead, she tried to squeeze back tears as she looked to her two young children, four year-old Remus and two year-old Maria on her right, forced to the ground as she was, and wailing uncontrollably. Countless more innocent civilians extended further on both sides, the murdered to her left, the terrified on her right. Mara cast her tearful gaze on the priest before her, smiling cruelly as he levelled his laspistol at her head and clutched a copy of Monstrum in his other hand. He repeated the statement he had made to her husband just moments before: “In the name of the Iron Monks, the loyal servants of the Emperor, you have been declared Heretic Extremis for submitting to the rule of the Renegade Astartes Chapter designated the Ghosts of Retribution. Any last words heretic?” Mara’s head fell and tears dripped off her the end of her nose onto the stone paved ground, the priest merely sneered in contempt as he prepared the squeeze the trigger. *WHOOSH* “GHAAK!” Mara’s head shot up just in time to see the Priest tumble to the ground, a cavernous hole in his torso. A moment later the air was filled with roaring projectiles, slamming into the Frateris ranks and tearing them into scraps of flesh. Civilians all around broke free of their panicking captors and ran for cover, Mara dove upon her children and held them beneath herself, eyes shut tight and waiting for the screams and explosions to stop. After several seconds, silence fell upon the square, only broken by heavy approaching footsteps. Mara peered up from the ground, squinting for a moment as her eyes readjusted to the midday light; the bodies of Frateris Militia lay everywhere and across the square five enormous, grey-armoured figures strode towards the massed civilians, they were the Ghosts of Retribution, the rulers of Varda. Mara had only seen a Space Marine once before, patrolling the Spaceport when she and her parents arrived on Varda sixteen years ago. She was just a young girl at the time and to her the Space Marine was like a living mountain, but even now she was an adult they were no less impressive. Mara held Remus and Maria close as she scrambled over to the body of her husband, burying her head in his unmoving chest as she wept. Eventually the dull thuds of the Space Marines’ footsteps were close, one set in particular stopping nearby. Mara looked up and saw the grey monolith looking down at her, after a moment he knelt down, pulled Jeth’s Aquila from around his neck and held it out to Mara: “We cannot linger.” Mara took the Aquila and placed it round her own neck. She kissed Jeth’s lifeless cheek one last time before getting up and ushering her children around her. She picked up the still-crying Maria as Remus clutched her leg, looking at his father in confusion: “Mom, what’s happened to Dad?!” Mara blinked back a fresh tide of tears as she responded: “He’s with the Emperor now sweetheart, please shush.” Eventually the Marines enveloped the couple of hundred surviving civilians and herded them together. One of the Marines stood on a chunk of collapsed masonry and addressed them, his helmet’s synthesiser projecting his booming voice so all could hear: “Citizens, we require to follow us closely so we may lead you to an emergency shelter, please do not stray from the group, those that fall behind must be left behind.” The Marine stepped down and strode off towards one of the exits to the square. Mara lifted both her children up and followed closely, as did the other civilians. They group made their way through the streets of Novomark, Space Marines watching the sides and rear of the group as their leader led the way. It wasn’t long before Mara, burdened as she was; found herself at the back of the group. She begged for help but others were busy with their own problems. Threatening to be left behind she desperately struggled to keep pace with the rest, but it was an impossible task. Soon enough she was several dozen feet behind the rest, continually tripping up on scattered masonry and shell craters. She began to panic at the thought of being left alone when suddenly a massive metal arm wrapped itself around her waist and lifted her off the ground effortlessly. Keeping a firm grip on her children she looked round to see the Space Marine watching the rooftops and windows all around them like a hawk, paying such little attention to the people he had picked up that she thought perhaps he had done it involuntarily. After another ten minutes or so later when an explosion erupted from the front of the column, killing a score or more civilians and sending them flying into the air. A massive aircraft screeched overhead and the marine set Mara down as the leader’s voice roared from up ahead: “AIRCRAFT! SCATTER!” A gruesomely maimed corpse slammed into the ground in front of Mara, she was splattered with blood and screamed in terror as Maria and Remus resumed crying. The Marine that had carried her immediately darted towards a nearby building and smashed in the hefty front door before calling to the nearest civilians: “Follow me, in here!” The other four Space Marines made similar actions, and within a few moments the streets were clear of civilians as they scrambled into surrounding buildings. About thirty people were crammed inside the same building as Mara, looking towards the Space Marine as he conversed over his vox to his leader: “Enemy aircraft still circling, affirmative Brother-Sergeant, we’ll make our own way through the narrower alleys.” Turning to the civilians, he repeated the plan: “Enemy aircraft are circling overhead so we cannot travel on the main roads, you will follow me through the narrow streets towards the shelter. I am only one now so you must keep up and keep a look-out for Militia ambushes yourself.” Without another word the Space Marine slammed right through the exterior wall on the other side of the building, looking both ways with his bolter raised, he waited a moment before beckoning the others to follow him. Travel through the narrow alleys and backstreets was much slower than on the main road so Mara was able to keep up. After a few minutes, the Marine ahead signalled the rest to halt as he peered round a corner. After checking his bolter for a moment, he moved round and a dozen or so roars followed. Returning to the group he indicated they should follow once more. Around the corner they found a ten-man squad of Frateris Militia, or at least what was left of them. Ten of the more able men of the group picked up their weapons, filled with hatred for those ransacking their home. Mara clutched her children against her shoulders, shielding their eyes from the bloody corpses. Once past the scene, she checked on her children, Maria had finally stopped crying, but Remus would not cease fidgeting, full of curiosity over what was unfolding around him: “Mom, who’s the big man?” “He’s a Space Marine, please Remus be still.” “What’s his name?” “I don’t know darling please.” Suddenly the Marine’s voice called back, his keen ears hearing the distant child over the din of far-off battle: “Laren, my name is Laren.” Laren continued to forge through the alleyways as Mara lay the now-complacent Remus over her shoulder. As they slowly made their way closer to the shelter, Mara’s mind turned to the days preceding this horror: It all started about a week ago, Mara, Jeth and their children lived in a small homestead just outside the city limits, Jeth had just arrived home from work in the city and Mara was playing with her children in the living room when Governor Lohar made an announcement on all media, an invasion was considered imminent and all citizens were ordered to stay in their homes until instructed otherwise. A few days later the Militia arrived, they were disarmingly friendly, declaring salvation for servants of the Emperor and promising safety. The family travelled and slept in the Militia transport vehicles for a couple more days as they roamed the outskirts gathering more civilians. That was when they began heading into the city, the vast convoy splitting up and moving to several separate squares to set up ‘safe zones’ or so they claimed. The civilians only realised the truth when it was too late. Once all the civilians were within the square, the Militia parked their Rhinos in the streets leading away, the soldiers began separating people, pushing them further apart and spreading them out, when one man refused to be torn from his wife a Militiaman brutally bashed him down with the butt of his lasgun, and that was when all hell broke loose. Militiamen waded in from all sides, grasping civilians and forcing them into a series of long lines, spanning the breadth of the square. When they began forcing their prisoners to their knees, Mara realised their horrifying intent. Jeth continued to struggle against the Militiaman holding him on his knees, but another came behind him and smashed in the back of his head with his lasgun, Jeth’s skull gave sickening crunch and he went limp. He regained consciousness after a minute or so but his eyes were blank, his face without emotion and gaze without purpose, staring dumbly ahead. As civilian after civilian was executed by the priest, he eventually reached Jeth, reciting his proclamation as he aimed his laspistol at the empty shell of a man before him. Mara was snapped back to the present when the Space Marine signalled for the party to halt. After of few moments of silence, he recited his most recent orders: “Enemy activity has greatly intensified in the area, probability of reaching the shelter has been reduced to less than ten percent. Alternate plan is to locate a defensible position and wait for reinforcement. City plans show a bomb shelter is located approximately four-hundred metres north-east of our current location, that is where we shall go.” On the way to the shelter they encountered another ten-man Frateri patrol, Laren made short work of them with a grenade and fusillade of bolts, before instructing the civilians to gather their water and weapons. When they reached the shelter, the Space Marine stood at the entrance, watching the streets as a few of the armed civilians moved through inside, the narrow entrance corridor extended inside before turning a corner and opening into a large room. Within they found four Militiamen huddled around a camp stove, the unfortunate men scarcely had time to grab their weapons before they were impaled by several bayonets each. Laren watched as the bodies were dragged out and unceremoniously dumped on the street: “Excellent work.” Mara was one of the last inside, making an observation as she did: “Milord, you cannot fit through the entrance.” “I am aware citizen.” “What if the Militia come?” “Irrelevant, mission success not contingent on survival.” Mara let the matter rest and walked through into the shelter, most were huddling in the corners, praying to the Emperor, but soon several began piling rubble up inside the corridor, blocking any easy entrance. Mara watched the Space Marine from behind the barricade, he was lifting enormous chunks of masonry that had fallen from nearby buildings and forming a semicircular structure around the entrance to the shelter, before taking grenades from the dead Frateris and rigging them between various gaps in the barrier, forming booby traps. When he was finally done, he knelt down in the middle of the barricade and kept watch. Mara settled down inside the shelter, kissing the Aquila round her neck before holding her children close, within a matter of moments all three were asleep, exhausted from the tumultuous day. Several hours later Mara was awakened by the rumble of a nearby explosion, followed by gunfire. She sat Remus down before laying Maria on his lap: “Remus take care of your sister, mommy’s going to see what’s happening.” She rushed to the barricade in the corridor, squeezing between several lasgun wielding men to see the Space Marine. Night had fallen outside, and the Marine was standing outside the entrance, firing bolts in all directions, hurling grenades and roaring defiance at the encroaching Frateri horde. Dozens of lasgun beams were flying around Laren, several striking his venerable armour but none breaching the thick ceramite. Suddenly a Frateri scrambled over the rubble behind Laren, he brought his chainsword down for a slash at his back but the Space Marine span round faster than the eye could follow and impaled the Frateri on his enormous combat blade, he was lifted bodily upwards from the force of the strike before the Marine pulled his corpse off the knife and continued mowing down approaching Militia. But despite the Space Marine’s heroics, it was an unwinnable battle. Eventually the Militia began moving in heavier armour, Laren dove to the ground as an Immolator unleashed a torrent of flame at his position. The Marine was forced to fall back as far down the corridor as he could, armour screeching against the sides of the concrete passage. Sensing victory, the Frateri redoubled their efforts, swarming into the breach despite the booby-trapped grenades claiming several of them. Laren continued to pour fire from his boltgun into the baying Militia, after realising they could not simply rush the Marine in single-file they took positions at the entrance and fired continually round the corner, Laren was struck by the beams countless times, his armour beginning to sizzle and crack. At one point a grenade sailed over his head, threatening to land inside the shelter, the Marine caught it just in time for it to detonate a moment later, removing his hand and most of his forearm. With his bolter out of ammo, Laren drew his bolt pistol with his remaining hand and continued to blast at the Frateri, aiming for the lasguns they aimed at him round the corner. Soon enough though the Militia began setting up an Autocannon in front of the entrance, Laren’s bolts failing to penetrate its thick gunshield. Acting quickly, Laren took a pistol magazine and jammed his last grenade into the top. Just as the Militia finished setting up the gun he pulled the pin and hurled his improvised explosive. Failing to notice the device land amongst them, the Autocannon crew opened fire on the exposed Marine. The first couple of rounds slammed into Laren’s chestplate, shearing open a horrific scar in the armour, the third ploughed into his knee, tearing off the leg below, and the fourth struck his chestplate again, passing though the gap and obliterating most of his vital organs in a spray of gore. The weapon did not have time for any more shots as the grenade and bolts detonated, which then set-off the autocannons’ own ammunition. The terrific explosion incinerated over a score of Militia at the entrance and almost completely covered the entrance as tonnes of masonry came crashing down. As the dust settled, Laren painstakingly removed his helmet, dropping it to the floor as he coughed up blood onto the wall beside him. He looked back into the shelter at the citizens peering over the barricade, their eyes full of disbelief at the events that had unfolded, and staring into the pale face and jet-black eyes of their saviour. Almost nonplussed over the alarming amount of blood pouring from his chest, the Marine spoke to them, his breathing rapidly becoming more laboured: “More will come and I am out of ammunition, suggest you prepare defen-....defences....” His head lolled forwards, never to rise again, but his body remained in place, propped up as it was by the narrow corridor. Mara returned to her children, and a few minutes later the topmost portion of the collapsed entrance was pushed aside by Militia who began crawling through the narrow opening they had made. However, they encountered fierce fire from the defending civilians and struggled to get past the body of the Space Marine, leaving them to be torn apart by the vengeful fire of the citizens. As the Frateri bodies began to pile up, they stopped trying to enter, deciding this pocket of resistance was more trouble than it was worth. As the main force rumbled away, the people in the shelter breathed a collective sigh of relief, the danger finally seemed over. The group remained in the shelter for several more hours until eventually the Frateris Militia moved on from the area. But unable to get past either the Space Marine or the blocked entrance, the occupants had little to do but pray they were found by friends. As morning broke, the same voice that had led the larger group yesterday called in through the narrow opening in the entrance: “Brother Laren! This is your last reported position, please confirm presence!......Brother?!” One of the armed civilians called out gingerly: “My....My Lords, Brother Laren is....is....” There was a momentary pause from the other side of the rubble before a flat reply came: “Dead?” “Yes milord, I am sorry.” The blocked entrance was hauled aside by the Space Marines with ease, and the Sergeant approached Laren’s body. Picking up his fallen helmet, the Sergeant clasped his limp hand and muttered quietly: “Sleep now brother.” The other two marines with the Sergeant extricated Laren from the corridor and carried him outside, then the Sergeant called for the civilians to follow. Laren was laid on a large, flat piece of rubble outside the entrance, his helmet placed on his chest. The Sergeant instructed one of his Marines: “Mark the position on the map, the Apothecaries will recover our brother’s geneseed as soon as they can.” The citizens shuffled out of the shelter onto the streets, following the three Space Marines through the now completely quiet and deserted streets, the Militia having moved on to other regions of the city. The slower pace afforded by the lesser danger allowed Mara to keep up whilst carrying her children and soon enough they arrived at the shelter. It was a large manufactorum, with thick walls and strong doors, and a vast open square in front of the entrance that contained several burnt-out Frateri Immolators and hundreds of dead Militia. On a balcony above the main entrance Mara could see a Space Marine hefting a Missile Launcher, and at the enormous main entrance another pair of Marines stood guard. As the Sergeant approached one of them took a device out of his belt and pushed a button on it, the heavy metal doors slowly slid open and the civilians were ushered inside, joining over a thousand others crammed onto the factory floor. Finding a space, Mara sat down against a support beam and tried to rest, holding her children close. For the next several days they remained in the shelter, with food and water handed out twice a day from provisions piled up in preparation for the ‘invasion’. Occasionally gunfire and explosions would erupt from outside, but the attackers were driven off every time by the Space Marines. Mara spent most of her time taking care of Maria but Remus, along with several other children, spent their time either playing around the factory or captivated by the war stories of an old Imperial Guard Veteran, telling tales of the Third Ionian Crusade. After an agonising week of praying the Frateri did not return in force, their salvation arrived. Thunderous roars emerged from the sky, prompting the civilians to rush to the upper floors and look out the windows, just in time to see drop pods and landing craft slam into the open square in front of the manufactorum. The factory doors eased open and the six remaining Marines of the Tactical Squad rushed out to meet their arriving brothers. The fifty-or-so Marines that emerged from the landing craft were black-helmed Veterans of the First Company, swiftly forming a perimeter around the square and signalling the landing craft to take off. Mara lifted Maria up in her arm and kept a hold of Remus by the hand as she moved to get a closer look. One of the Veterans removed his helmet to reveal a heavily scarred face, and strode to the Tactical Squad Sergeant, they clasped forearms and Mara edged even closer to overhear their conversation: “Brother Arteus, we feared your squad had not survived.” “Not whilst there was work left to do Mercurion.” “Glad to hear it. The Chapter Master has dropped into the Krodian Mountains with the rest of the First, preliminary reports indicated the Fifth have taken a fierce toll on the Militia there with the Fortress of Vengeance. We’ve been dropped in here to bolster the Sixth and harry the Frateri forces in the City.” “We were hit hard on all fronts, the initial duplicity cost us dearly but Captain Macedon quickly marshalled our forces and distracted the bulk of their forces long enough for us to gather many thousands of civilians in shelters like this all across the city, I am afraid if you hoped to rally the entirety of the Sixth to aid you, you will be unable to get us together in time. Not only are we spread all across Novomark but I predict we are at best operating at only 65% strength.” Mercurion sighed deeply: “Such treachery will not go unpunished brother. Remain here with your squad, my men and I will forge deeper into the city centre and prepare to assault the main Frateri encampments, Captain Macedon is waiting in the Generatorium to destroy the city’s power supply, we will strike under cover of darkness and send every last one of them to hell!” “Glorious brother, I wish I could be there with you.” “As do I, but you must keep our people safe. There are many thousands of Militia in Novomark, even with the rest of the Chapter arriving soon, victory is far from assured. They’ve seized the Governor’s palace and heavily fortified it, the coming battle will take a heavy toll on all of us.” “Good luck brother.” They clasped hands once more and Mercurion replaced his helmet, before leading his Veterans away from the square and towards the Planetary Headquarters. Sergeant Arteus turned around and addressed the now massing civilians on the square: “Citizens, move back inside the manufactorum! The rest of our Chapter are making planetfall as we speak, this will all be over soon!” The civilians responded with heartened cheers and praises to the Emperor, and despite overhearing the Marines’ grim conversation Mara felt her spirits lifted by the thoughts of her and her children surviving this horror. That night, as Mara and her children huddled together to sleep, the manufactorums lighting suddenly cut out, resulting in a minor panic amongst the civilians. One of the Marines patrolling the floor fired his flamer into a deactivated furnace, the burning promethium gel illuminating the area. The Sergeant then announced from a catwalk above: “Worry not, our brothers have cut power to the city so they may strike at the enemy in the dark.” As if on cue, enormous explosions could be heard in the distance as the Veterans began their attack, and the civilians conversed with glee their hopes of many dead Frateri. Few got any sleep that night, consumed as they were with thoughts of the distant conflict, praying for the victory of their superhuman guardians. When the sun rose in the morning, the Marine Sergeant addressed the civilians: “Citizens, glorious news, our brothers have pushed all Militia forces out of the central region of the city and seized the Governor’s Palace, and all civilians are being relocated there immediately!” A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd, and they all began collecting their meagre possessions ready to head off. After a few minutes, the manufactorum doors slid open and the Sergeant led the way once more. The massive group made their way down wide main highways, the ground littered with desiccated corpses of Militia and civilian alike, and vehicles of all stripes slowly burning in the street. During her stay in the manufactorum, Mara had fashioned a sling to hold Maria across her back, freeing both arms to carry Remus when he grew too tired to walk. Soon enough the convoy was travelling down Novomark’s main boulevard, a broad kilometre long parade road with the Governor’s palace at one end and an enormous marble statue of an Astartes at the other. The palace loomed up in the distance, a shadow of its former grandeur, the gleaming plasteel roof now half collapsed, the once beautiful granite stonework smashed beyond recognition. Nevertheless, every man, woman, and Space Marine in the group was inspired by the enormous black banner waving defiantly above the palace’s main entrance, emblazoned with the stark white wing & scythe of the Ghosts of Retribution. Shuffling through the vast, blown-open entrance as Space Marines dumped Frateri bodies from the rooftops; they were led through to a garden courtyard of many acres in the centre of the palace, where many thousands of civilians were camped in a colossal tent city. It was difficult not to notice the terrible shape many of the Space Marines were in, armour rent and torn, numerous appendages missing and slick with blood not entirely of the Frateri, even one particularly giant Marine strode about on a stump, his foot completely gone. But despite their myriad and terrible wounds, the Marines carried on, hauling ammunition to firing positions and setting up barricades around the entrances. Mara wandered the garden for over an hour looking for a place to rest, fortunately, as she passed by a large tent, an older woman’s head poked out and called to her: “There’s room in here if you need a space dear.” Mara hurried inside: “Oh thank you so much, I’m Mara, this is Remus and Maria.” The woman replied whilst beckoning to the other inhabitants of the tent: “I’m Ovila, that’s my husband Yerl, the teenage girl is our granddaughter Henriette, we got here only a few hours ago.... She lowered her voice: “..... the fellow sitting in the corner was here when we arrived, doesn’t seem to enjoy conversation.” Mara cast her eye to the one Ovila referred to, his grizzled face but strong build making it hard to place an age, a Lasgun carrying the symbol of the Iron Monks was leaning against the side of his chair, and he was digging chunks out of the small wooden table with the detached bayonet. His ear pricked up at the mention of him, overhearing the woman despite her practically whispering: “I’m Arden, Tyre Arden.” Ovila offered to take Maria as Henriette sat on the floor with Remus, whilst Mara inquired further: “Where....where did you get the gun?” “Where do you think? He certainly had no further use for it.....” Mara wisely chose not to ask any more questions, she sat on the other side of the tent with the others as they recounted their story. Ovila and Yerl were taking care of Henriette whilst her parents visited the Green Belt, they lived in an inner city apartment before the Frateri gathered them into a square just as they had done with Mara and her family, fortunately they, unlike Mara, were placed towards the end of the line. Other than that piece of fortune, their story was similar to Mara’s: Space Marines massacred the Frateri conducting the execution, before leading them to a shelter and eventually the palace. By the time Mara had recounted her own harrowing tale, evening had begun to fall. Much of the Palace’s vast storerooms had been looted by the Frateri Militia so many of the refugees were left hungry, nevertheless they felt more secure than they had for a week within the Palace’s vast walls. As night approached Mara put her children to bed on a blanket, she noticed Arden stripping and cleaning the lasgun on the table, acting quickly and efficiently, it was obviously something he had done a hundred times before. Mara remarked: “You know what you’re doing.” Arden removed the focussing lens held between his lips and replied: “Yep.” “You were a soldier?” At the mention of his military service Arden pricked up somewhat: “That’s right. Mormarkian 93rd, RSM. Thirteen years of service before I came here two years ago. Figured here was better than Mormark to raise-....” He paused momentarily but swiftly regained his composure: “.....so how about you? When did you come to Varda?” Quickly realising what had befallen Arden, Mara answered him without questioning why he changed the subject: “I was brought here by my parents back in twenty-three, with the second wave of colonisers. Heat took some getting used to coming from Mormark, but it’s a lot nicer looking out your window on a green forest than a snowy wasteland.” Arden nodded absently: “Mhm, tax breaks aren’t bad either, heh.” Mara smiled for the first time in a week: “Ha-ha, yeah.” Arden cast his eye on the sleeping children: “So um...their father?” Mara shook her head, blinking back tears. Arden quickly regretted asking: “Hey I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Mara hurriedly rubbed her eyes before replying: “No it’s alright, everyone’s lost someone, many, more than me. So, do you feel like telling your story now?” Arden finished reassembling the lasgun and relaxed in his chair: “Sure. My home is, or was I suppose, a townhouse just down the boulevard, lovely place, a gift from my old Colonel in the 93rd. Nice man he was, of course saving his life once or twice didn’t hurt. Anyway, those bastards knocked on the door and told me I had to take my wife and daughter to a ‘safe zone’ down the boulevard. I told them we had a perfectly good shelter in the basement, strong and well-supplied, they tried to insist I go with them but I wasn’t having it, damn priests were no help during the Invasion back on Mormark, didn’t see why they’d be any better here. So we stay in our house, ready to get in the shelter when the enemy arrives. Of course the enemy was already here, we just didn’t know.” He took a sip from a canteen at his side before continuing: “So we must have waited for about three days, me and Valeria are watching the vidscreen, mostly Governor Lohar reciting evacuation procedures, Nola’s playing with her toys on the carpet in front of us...” Arden blinked rapidly for a few moments before continuing: “Then I hear a loud whoosh outside, I’ve heard the same noise a thousand times coming from a meltagun. Valeria held to Nola whilst I went to the window to take a look, and then I see it. Half a Space Marine was on the ground, his other half turned to ash, and the fucking bastards had hundreds of civvies on their knees across the boulevard, whilst one gaudy cunt plugged them one-by-one. I yell to Valeria to go to the shelter with Nola, then I grabbed my old service rifle, bolted the doors and headed to the top floor. I watched them do their dirty work from the upstairs window, I wanted to help but I didn’t know what I could do on my own. Unfortunately, it seems they decided to flatten as much of the city as they could anyway. Only thing I remember was a brief scream of aircraft engines, and a huge explosion from beneath me, the bomb smashed right through the roof and top floor before detonating. I must’ve been launched from the open window because the next thing I remember is waking up on the street in the middle of the night, fair bit of dried blood on the back of my head and riddled with splinters. I managed to stagger back up towards my home but....” He stared into space for bit: “It was gone, nothing but rubble. I dug for the rest of the night to get to the basement but the bomb had gone all the way down, straight through the concrete floor and into the basement.....there was nothing left.....” After a brief silence, Mara replied: “I’m so sorry...” “After that I just wandered around the city looking for Frateri, managed to find a whole squad of the stupid fucks sleeping, sliced the only lookout’s neck, finished the rest off in their sleep. Just carried on like that for a few days before I stumbled into a bunch of Space Marines getting ready to attack the Palace, nice enough to let me join them as well. Managed to bag a few of the defenders but I can’t say they didn’t do most of the work. Since then I’ve just been here, waiting for something to happen.” Once Arden had finished his tale Mara joined her children on the blanket and fell asleep. Arden meanwhile stayed awake, his sunken eyes focussing on a small picture he removed from his jacket pocket, he held it close before sitting back in his chair and falling asleep. The next morning, Mara awoke to see her children and Henriette sat around Arden as he told a story: “...so then I look up and I see the Sarge clinging onto this massive droid’s back, he grabs a grenade and pins it against the thing’s neck with his helmet. It goes off and blows the damn thing open like a tin can. Sarge didn’t make it, but he saved my life, saved the company too, Emperor knows what kind of damage that thing would do if it got behind our lines.” Suddenly a bustle grew outside, Mara emerged from their tent to see refugees hurrying through the encampment towards the entrance side of the Palace complex. Standing at the top of the large stone stairs leading from the palace down to the gardens stood the Space Marine Mercurion. Mara questioned a passer-by: “What’s happening?” “The Space Marines have an address to make!” Quickly gathering Remus and Maria, Mara joined Arden, Yerl and Ovila in making their way to the steps. As the massive crowd gathered at the base, Mercurion began his address: “People of Varda, we have recovered a great deal of equipment from the dead Frateri, which unfortunately we ourselves cannot put to use. The enemy came to us claiming to be friends and allies, but they planned from the start to betray us! Now their fleet is routed, and their grip upon your home world nears its end! I ask you this, citizens of Varda! For the Emperor, your homes and the betrayed fallen, fight with us! Come up these stairs to receive your equipment!" Without a seconds hesitation Arden forced his way through the crowd and up the stairs, joining hundreds of other men eager to fight. As he approached the top, Mercurion halted him: “You, you fought with us to take the Palace.” “I did my lord.” “You fought well, Imperial Guard?” “Aye milord, I served in the Mormarkian Guard for thirteen years.” “Fought during the Wrath invasion?” “Yes milord.” “I’m making you an officer, you’re experience will be needed.” “Thank you, I will not disappoint you milord.” Mara meanwhile headed back to the tent with the others, Ovila chastising Yerl for suggesting he join to fight: “Honestly dear I doubt you could aim a lasgun straight, let alone keep up with the rest of those young men.” Yerl grumbled incoherently as they re-entered their tent, settling down inside they shared conversation whilst Henreiette played with the children. At around mid-afternoon a terrific din emerged from the sky, and they looked outside just in time to see a colossal grey Thunderhawk soar overhead, easing to a halt and hovering above the Palace. As it lowered towards the open area at the top of the steps, the front and side hatches eased open and Space Marines leapt from them onto the ground, cracking the stone slab paving as they landed. The last to fall was unhelmed, his piercing mechanical eye passing over the scene. Standing fully a head taller than most of the other Marines, the civilians present knew this must be the legendary Chapter Master they had all heard so many stories about, but never gazed upon with their own eyes. Mercurion greeted the Chapter Master and they conversed briefly, before the Chapter Master turned to the massing civilians and addressed them with his booming voice: “Citizens, Frateri forces are massing for an all-out attack on this position, you will be escorted away from the city by those brave souls who volunteered this morning, the Ghosts of Retribution will remain here, and defend Novomark.” The words were greeted with a mixed response from the civilians but they remained confident the Space Marines would emerge victorious. Back in the tent, Mara and the others were preparing to leave. She gathered up Maria and placed several filled water canteens in a satchel at her side, before taking Remus by the hand and joining Ovila, Yerl and Henriette outside. The six of them they moved away with the ever-growing convoy of civilians, trudging out the entrance of the Palace, which was now guarded by ten enormous Terminators, and down the main streets of Novomark. As they once more trudged down the parade boulevard, Mara took one more look at the tattered black banner flying atop the palace facade, as Space Marines continued to fortify the palace and surrounding area, mounting heavy weapons in the windows and rigging explosives to almost everything they could, determined to slaughter as many Militia as possible. The sun began to dip over the horizon when the front of the convoy was just reaching the city’s edge. As Mara saw the enormous city wall loom up ahead, a series of thunderous explosions rumbled from behind, flashes lighting up the clouds in the sky above the centre of the city. The final battle for Novomark had begun...